IN SEARCH OF SNOW 137

Mysterious city—

City of pleasures,

Of gay music and dancing,

Of painted and beautiful women—

Wondrous city!

Unveiling but to those who,

Shunning day,

Live through the night

And return home

To the sound of awakening streets

And the rising dawn.

—as Delias prefaced his lovely nocturne, "Paris: The
Song of a Great City."

And then the descent. The searchlights flash across the
aerodrome, making it like a stage: the aeroplane's
wheels first touch the ground at the exact spot where the
light begins, and the machine runs in like a ship into
harbour.

Imperial Airways certainly do their best in unpleasant
weather conditions even on a dirty day: fogs, rain, and
storms seem a long way off when one is skimming over
the white billowy surface of clouds in brilliant sunshine
and blue sky all round. And in their new and larger
motor-coaches between Le Bourget and Paris one can
now read in comfort the advertisement signs on the
way: "Baptfoes de I*Air—50francs"; "Au Lapin Saute**
such a delightful name for a restaurant: "Divorces rapides>
consultations 5 francs** a very cheap offer from the legal
fraternity.

A fair criticism of this visit to Paris would be that it is
ringed with levity. Why did I "cut" my lectures at the
Sorbonne? Why did I not see Montmartre with its